


Retreat, Regroup

by TouchingOldMagic



Series: Ghostbusters 30 Day Challenge [3]
Category: Ghostbusters (Comics), Ghostbusters - All Media Types
Genre: Bust Fic, Chicago Ghostbusters, Gen, Ron Alexander is a walking dumpster fire, hurt/comfort sorta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24656878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TouchingOldMagic/pseuds/TouchingOldMagic
Summary: Day 3 of the Ghostbusters 30 Day ChallengePrompt: One of the TeamsThe Chicago Ghostbusters never have it easy. And having Ron Alexander as an employee doesn't make it any easier.
Series: Ghostbusters 30 Day Challenge [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779643
Kudos: 7





	Retreat, Regroup

**Author's Note:**

> I had to choose the Chicago Ghostbusters from the IDW comics, because I have mad love for Ron and Rookie as a duo. This takes place before Dani and Lou join the crew. Warning for Ron's excessive use of language.

"Dammit. Daaaammit! Dammit all to fucking hell--!"

Bryan Welsh slapped his radio button. "Ron? What's wrong?"

"Your damn Class Three is here and using me for target practice, that's what's wrong! Get down here!" There was a clatter and a crash in the background.

 _Oh, so it's mine now, is it?_ Bryan thought, but turned sharply around. "I'm on my way. Where are you?"

"Where I'm supposed to be, on the floor! Hurry up, Rookie!"

He rolled his eyes. "Could you be a little more specific maybe?"

The two Chicago Ghostbusters were investigating reports of flying merchandise in a large storage warehouse, and upon entering they split up to cover the massive structure faster and to hopefully catch the spirit between the two of them. Bryan had agreed to take the second floor, which was made up of offices and filing rooms, while Ron started at the far end of the floor area and worked his way back to the front.

"Third aisle, with the lawnmowers and--shit!" Something very loud crashed through the radio's small speaker.

Bryan's footsteps thumped rapidly as he hurried down the metal stairway to the floor below. The first floor of the warehouse was all one open area, but it was divided into aisles by tall shelving units arranged like tin soldiers in neat, narrow rows. Bryan listened for sounds of a disturbance as he hastened in what he hoped was the right direction.

"Third aisle from where?" he whispered into the radio. "You know, you're not being very helpful, Ron. ...Ron?" He frowned when there was no response.

The warehouse seemed to be a storage place for all manner of retail items, most sealed up in cardboard boxes but the larger items sitting on the shelves directly. Lawnmowers would probably be in some sort of gardening or outdoor section, but Bryan was hard pressed to make any sort of sense to the order of the place, and the numeric system written on signs at the end of each aisle meant nothing to him.

He had just spotted something up ahead that might have been a row of lawnmowers or other outdoor equipment when he was distracted by a box on the shelf next to his head starting to shake. He automatically drew his thrower, watching it levitate off the shelf and then launch directly at him.

"Yikes!" Throwers didn't often help when ghosts were using projectiles. Mostly they just turned something flying at you into something flying at you while on fire. Bryan dropped to his knees to avoid the box and then scrambled forward when a dozen more rose up off the shelves all around him.

"Oh crap! Ron, help!" the younger Ghostbuster shouted, hoping that even if the radio was dead, maybe he was now close enough to catch his partner's attention.

\--

Ron Alexander growled and thumped his fist against his radio, but it still didn't respond. Maybe because he had fallen on it a few times, or maybe because it was completely covered in yellowish-orange slime (though their equipment was supposed to be protected against that sort of thing). Likewise, slime dripped from his shoulders to his belt, thanks to the citrus-colored ghost that had swooped in and lobbed a giant ball of it at his torso, before zipping away.

"Next time I see you, you're paying for that," he muttered under his breath. It was one thing to have to dodge flying merchandise, but when the thing started chucking pieces of itself at him, he felt like it was making it personal.

Ron was starting to wonder where the ghost had gotten off to when a resounding crash made him jump. It was loud and it was nearby; Ron felt the vibration in his boots against the concrete floor.

He jerked around toward the sound and took off at a run. It couldn't have been more than a couple aisles over. "Rookie? Where the hell are you?" he called. "You'd better answer me!"

He rounded the end of one aisle and found a scene of carnage. Somehow everything from one floor-to-ceiling shelf had come crashing down into the aisle. Boxes of seed packets, bags of something that looked like gravel or potting soil, terracotta pots, garden hoses, and other items spread out in a spilled mountain of mess.

Ron's brows crashed together and he scowled as he skidded to a halt. How the hell had one small Class Three done this? Unless everything had already been stacked precariously on the shelves and it had just taken a bit of a push to knock it all over. Had the ghost drawn the Rookie down this way on purpose? Ron didn't like that thought. He preferred ghosts to be stupid.

Ron shoved products aside and spotted a leg and dark blue coveralls protruding. "Rook? Hey, quit laying down on the job."

Still no response, and the leg didn't move. Ron bit off another curse and shoved the other stock away until his coworker's pale face was revealed. Apparently one of the bags of soil had snagged on something and opened, because everything in the area was covered in a layer of brown dirt, but Ron didn't see any gashes or anything horrific. No blood.

Ron hadn't really been paying attention during the first aid class the city had made them sit through to be an accredited business, but he ran his hands over the other man's arms and legs quickly and didn't feel anything broken. "Wake up, you lazy ass," he muttered, but his voice had lost its harshness and volume.

There was a slight giggling sound above him and Ron whipped around, grabbing for his thrower. There was nothing there. He looked left and right. The warehouse was eerily quiet.

_Right, high past time to get the fuck out of here._

Ron grabbed one of the other Ghostbuster's limp hands and pulled it over his shoulder, levering the unconscious body up out of the fallen products. He managed two staggering steps to clear the debris and then hefted his partner in a fireman's carry.

"You know, you could help a little bit, Bryan," he grumbled quietly. "Or you could wake up. That'd be great."

By the time he was staggering out to the Ecto-15, Ron heard a faint groan in his ear and felt the man shift on his shoulders. "'Bout... time..!" He puffed between gasps of air. He slung Bryan's body down and braced him against the door to their company vehicle, a converted cab. "Rook? Hey, Rookie, you with me yet? We don't pay you to sleep on the job, lazy ass."

Bryan's brown eyes, usually sharp and often worried, were now hazy and unfocused, looking straight through Ron in a way that was unsettling to the older Ghostbuster. Ron raised a hand and gave him a smart smack on the cheek. "Wake up!"

Bryan put up a hand to ward off further attempts. "R-Ron!" he sputtered. "Ugh, my head..."

Something that might have been relief ghosted across Ron's face before he chased it away with a sneer. "About time," he said again. "You gonna live?"

If his brains hadn't been so rattled, the question of concern would have surprised Bryan, even if it had been delivered in a tone dripping with sarcasm. He wiped at his face, then leaned over and spit on the sidewalk to get dirt out of his mouth. "Yeah, I'm all right. Why're we outside?"

Ron snorted. "So I didn't have to worry about being beaned while I made sure you weren't a ghost yourself. You're welcome, by the way."

"Thanks," Bryan muttered, rubbing his aching forehead. "We have to go back in and finish the job."

Ron rolled his eyes at his partner's dedication. He was more than ready to call it quits, but on the other hand, he liked being paid. "Fine, but this time we get that little rat bastard. I have a plan."

Bryan sighed. "Great." _Why do I have a bad feeling about this?_

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the abrupt ending, I'm trying to keep these from getting too long. Still got a long way to go til 30.


End file.
